


Crafty

by murderofonerose (atmilliways)



Category: Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: Abigail Isn’t Straight, DIY Fleshlight, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:48:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26937661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atmilliways/pseuds/murderofonerose
Summary: They came to Abigail one at a time in the days following the record’s masturbation ban.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Crafty

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Kloktober 2020 day 10 prompt, "Abigail Appreciation Day!" I started writing this before I rewatched Going Downklok for reference, so the order the boys try to hit on their producer is wrong. I have chosen to accept this, and not care. Neglect to do the same at your own peril. 
> 
> [Fish from tumblr](https://fishklok.tumblr.com/post/631097181403774976/atmilliways-fishklok-so-in-going-downklok) said, "So in Going Downklok, apparently all of the boys got rejected by Abigail, including Toki who’s still wearing bootyshorts, a crop top, and rollerblades. And I need to see this scene."
> 
> I have provided.

They came to Abigail one at a time in the days following the record’s masturbation ban. At that point she still had a carefully rationed stash of batteries to keep her vibrator going, so they were easy enough to dismiss. She didn’t even ever have to go as far as explaining she didn’t swing that way (which probably wouldn’t have helped, honestly) because it was literally written into her contract. 

Pickles came first. The powder blue suit was a cute touch, but the cologne was way, way too much. It smelled like he’d put on more than one and let the competing odors just . . . mingle. But she tried to let him down as gently as possible, because he had made some sort of effort. 

It surprised her a bit that Skwisgaar hadn’t been first, given his reputation as the world’s fastest lothario, but he showed up second. She’d been in the port observation tower going over her notes, redoing the schedule they’d have to move on in order to get the album done by the deadline yet again. He showed up with two dethkones in hand, one just so happening to be her favorite flavor. That implied an impressive level of attention to detail, which Abigail took care to courteously inform him would unfortunately not get him what he wanted in this case. Then she took the still outheld half mango, half sour strawberry snow cone, thanked him for it, and returned to her work. 

When Nathan made his attempt, it was clear he had come straight from the gym. She’d wrinkled her nose but not commented on the smell of fresh sweat. To be fair, he’d done a phenomenal job channeling his, er, excess time and energy towards working out. Really had to give him credit for that. But the muscled jock look had never appealed to her, particularly, so she declined the offer to “come help spot me sometime . . . in my room. . . .”

The worst by far was Murderface, who responded to every polite rejection with, “Well okay, but lischten,” and launched right back into it. Eventually the gloves had to come off; Abigail mentioned that she’d heard about him making a pass at Toki, and the bassist promptly started sputtering and scrambling over himself to get out of the conversation. She only trailed after him for a few corridors to drive the point home—and because he had been _really_ annoying—but she was pretty sure the embarrassment would outweigh his desperation for a good long while. 

And that just left Toki. Honestly, she didn’t know what to expect from Dethklok’s rhythm guitarist. His reputation with the ladies was pretty vague. Not bad, not good, nothing too weird—you know, considering the whole rockstar thing. 

So she had her guard up when Toki rolled into the upper starboard mess hall one night, still wearing his shrunken pink clothes and a high ponytail. Skwisgaar had done his research; had Toki? Had her college era love affair with roller derby come up in some internet search somehow? Were the booty shorts, crop top, and hair a calculated look, or just a coincidence?

“Hi Abigails! I was wonderings if maysbe would you might likes to sleep with ol' Toki?”

She looked into that hopeful face and gave a sigh. Not one of giving into temptation, of course, because that was a pretty lame attempt at seduction, but of exasperation. 

“No, thank you. It wouldn’t be professional.”

“Oh. Okays.” Dejected, he began to skate away, leaving her feeling as though she’d just kicked a puppy—and while she had no intention of changing her answer, she did feel kind of bad for shutting him down. 

Suddenly, Abigail had a thought. “Toki, wait. You like arts and crafts, right?”

Toki turned, interest piqued despite the lingering disappointment. “I sure do’s. Why?”

“What if I told you there’s a way you can make a . . . hands-free masturbatory aid with everyday items you can find around the sub?”

“Oh wowee, you can does thats??” He skated back over to her table and eagerly but clumsily took a seat on the opposite side. “You gots to tell me hows!”

“I’m going to, I’m going to.” She had already torn a page from her journal and started writing out instructions, along with helpful diagrams. “Okay, it’s simple. All you need for this is an empty Pringles can, a large condom, and a few sponges. Soft ones. And then . . .”

Abigail talked him through it, handed over the instructions, and watched him skate energetically off. Hopefully he would pass the idea on to his bandmates, otherwise she might have to go through explaining it again—and the others might think to ask how she knew how to make one of those things off the top of her head. The answer was a fairly innocuous ‘because I’ve had single guy housemates in the past and some of them were pretty chatty,’ but still. What she’d just done was bordering on unprofessional enough and it would be really nice if this was the end of it. 

Not so many nights later, she burst out with “Oh you’ve got to be _fucking_ kidding me” when her vibrator died. It wasn’t the batteries; she’d _just_ changed them, and proceeded to test every remaining battery in her stash to make absolutely sure. The thing was dead from overuse. She was literally in the same boat as Dethklok, with no other women on board. 

Abigail knew herself well enough to know that she would be fine . . . for a while. She had enough self-restraint to keep from destroying her own wrists within the week, the way the band had, but sooner or later it was going to get old. She’d been with guys before and, well, if it came right down to it, a mouth was a mouth. Might get tempting, if recording dragged on long enough. 

She hoped it wouldn’t come to that.


End file.
